


A Game of Zones

by insight_ful



Category: Game of Thrones (TV), The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Game of Thrones Fusion, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Arranged Marriage, Extremely Slow Burn, Mild Gore, Multi, RIP, Slow Burn, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-15
Updated: 2020-03-15
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:48:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23153518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/insight_ful/pseuds/insight_ful
Summary: A set of twins live in the North with their patchwork family, living a happy life that is easily complicated by the undead, corrupt royalty, and entirely unexpected events.On the other side of the sea, a former prince deals with his sister's plans to take back their rightful throne, forced to go with the flow until there's another option.{ the adventure zone characters in a game of thrones universe }
Relationships: Kravitz/Taako (The Adventure Zone)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 6





	1. winter is coming; side a

**Author's Note:**

> this was written in 2018 and was the first TAZ fic i ever attempted. please note that before proceeding lmao
> 
> chapters are meant to be about one episode, divided in half. side A is with taako, and side b is with kravitz

Snow drifts across the bodies of the fallen dead in thick white blankets, covering what’s left of them, but not hiding the blood left behind. 

While it’s true that dead men tell no tales, it’s clear that if these men could they would tell of some great battle deep in the woods. Surrounding their still smoking fire pit, eight dead bodies lie. Surrounding the small campsite thick wooden sticks stick out of the ground, the ends sharpened into points. Three of them now hold the heads of the dead, man, woman, and child, whose cloudy blue eyes stare into the oblivion of the afterlife.

Wind whips through the long hair of one of the heads; a woman that was once undoubtedly beautiful. Her mouth hangs open in a constant scream, showing the wooden spike that was driven up through her neck.

“We should start back,” a soft voice starts, her foreign accent strong as ever.

“Okay,” another voice, very similar, responds, “We have to tell Merle about this.”

“We will,” the first agrees, reaching for the other’s hand. They slide together like they were meant to, slender fingers wrapping around one another’s hands. Their caramel skin matching right down to the shadows and highlights.

The pair are inseparable, most often found together beyond the walls of Phandalin, out exploring the nearests forests or hunting. The time that they spend inside the walls though, is largely spent inside the kitchen right alongside the few women that spend their days cooking for the Lord of Phandalin.

Nobody truly knows where the two came from. Twins born East and brought to a southern kingdom on a ship with nobody to claim them. They were passed on from family to family, travelling from the southernmost city of the continent to one of the northernmost over the course of years. It was Merle that took them in. Ten years old by then, the twins had never found a family due to their looks. Slightly darker skinned than most of the southerners, but with nearly white hair, most families believed there was something wrong with them. Whether it be fear of a curse, or just the inability to raise the two of them, nobody from the south was ever able to let them into their heart.

Merle has always said that the people of the north are different. But Merle says a lot of things, most of which are absolutely ridiculous. Taking his words seriously could easily get you killed a majority of the time.

The twins, who had not acquired real names along their three year journey, had given each other their own: Tao and Lua. Orphans without a family name.

Merle raised them as his own, and they were soon after joined by a boy named Magnus. Only a year older than them, he was born to a whore that gave him up in order to continue her profession. He’d found a similar fate to the twins, his darker skin keeping him from finding a family in most of Westeros. Most assumed that his father must have been a pirate from Essos, seeing as the inhabitants there are much more likely to be dark skinned and tan.

Magnus became like their brother, and they his. At the time, Lup, was in fact a brother. Nowadays she’s a sister. Something that changed as they grew. Her hair grew long, she became interested in what the young girls of Phandalin would do, and she changed. Merle didn’t understand, and he still doesn’t fully understand why, but he’s been accepting. Taako has been at his sister’s side always, and the change did nothing to waver his dedication to her. If anything, it made him more determined to be with her. Protect her.

Magnus didn’t know any better at the time. The young man’s mind was still stuck in his childhood years, finding that the only people he could truly relate to inside the walls were the children. Even today he spends a considerable amount of time with them to train them with swords.

Nobody has thought to question the foreign orphans on their gender or why they do what they do.

The few that did in the earlier days found themselves in more trouble than it was worth once they had a six foot tall 15 year old and his scrawny but clever adoptive brother breathing down their neck until they let it go.

The twins survived their toughest years, relying on each other when times were hard, and grew to adulthood. With Merle’s hair whitening, they’re blatantly aware that they’ll soon be faced with his death, and they will have to fight with the powerful families of the north to keep Phandalin.

They will never accept that the Highchurch legacy will be passed on to a bastard or an orphan. Merle’s two children are much younger than them, and far from being able to be a proper lord or lady.

Because of this, the two of them don’t stray too far from home anymore when they go out. Needless to say, they were taken aback when they found the remains of eight of the citizens of Phandalin.

“Who do you think could have done it?” Lup looks to Taako, her long platinum hair catching between her lips as she talks. The wind chills them, but it’s a welcome thing after the long and hot summer.

“How should I know?” Taako shrugs, “Maybe wildlings managed to get this far south.”

Wildlings have terrorized the north for as long as the north has existed. They come from beyond the wall— so far north that no maps exist of what may be up there. The wall is the only thing that keeps them from coming into the proper country of Westeros. 700 feet of pure ice, going from one coast to the other, is all that stands between innocent villages and ravenous tribes.

The wall is manned by the Night’s Watch. Men that take a vow to give their lives to the profession, usually sent there as an alternative to the death sentence. Rapists, murderers, and thieves are all sent there in groups, serving as punishment. The few men that choose to serve on their own volition are usually seen as insane.

As the two of them grow nearer to Phandalin, they can hear horses approaching, from the north, most likely coming from the wall. Phandalin is the nearest castle to the wall, and is right along the Kings Road, which leads from the most populated keep of the wall— Castle Black— all the way south to the home of the King of Westeros.

Through the trees, they can see a small group of men dressed in black riding horses. Four men, one of which is in shackles, riding on the same horse as one of the others.

The twins don’t even have to exchange a glance to know the other is about to start running home, the curiosity about what could be going on eating away at them already. Releasing each others hands, they weave between the trees that they’re all too familiar with.

Very few people know of the entries into Winterfell other than the main gate, but the twins know the castle like the back of their hands, Taako follows Lup around the wall, stopping below the window into the kitchen. Taako boosts her up on the palms of his hands, and after she slips through the slim window, she helps pull him in too.

The women in the kitchen pay no mind, far too used to their antics by now to be bothered in the slightest by something as simple as climbing through a window.

Rushing through the kitchen, they weave past tables and stacks of dishes, bursting through the doors into the Great Hall, where meetings and feasts alike are held. Merle already sits in the center seat of the front table, reserved for his family.

Though there are only one person that shares his blood alive, the table is always full. On either side of him are his son and step-daughter, and the rest of them fill in from there. Lup, Taako, Magnus, even little Angus joins the meetings. He’s the newest addition to their ever growing family. He rode for Phandalin as soon as his grandfather died on their farm. He’s been training under Taako and Magnus since.

The only person at the table that doesn’t quite fit in with the rest is Lucretia. A woman darker skinned than all of her makeshift family, she is the biggest part of why Merle has taken in so many of the unwanted. She controls Phandalin just as much as Merle does, if not more. The two are not lovers- nor are they married- but they trust one another. To Lucretia, trust is more important than marriage. Merle claims that he doesn’t enjoy being ‘tied down’, but others have their own suspicions.

Merle sits in his seat, Lucretia ushering his son Mookie into the one to his right. Magnus follows behind Angus as he comes through the large doors at the end of the room, towering over the child like a bear. Yet behind him, a young woman with striking red hair, her face serious..

Her name is Mavis, Merle’s step daughter. Her mother is nowhere to be found, but she continues to live with the Highchurch family regardless. Merle has had trouble connecting with her and making it clear that he cares, and yet to this day even she sits with them at the table.

Lup takes her seat at the left end of the table, Taako sits right next to her, and Angus next to him. On the other side, Lucretia, Magnus, and Mavis.

Men file in through the doors, Phandalin’s soldiers, noblemen, and even just normal people that get curious. They line the walls and sit at the two long rows of tables that follow them, all facing the center of the room.

The men that Taako and Lup saw riding towards Phandalin enter last, pulling along the man in shackles. Now that he can see them clearly, Taako has no doubt that they’re members of the Night’s Watch. They wear only black, identical swords at all of their hips.

Pushed to the front, the shackled man falls to his knees a few yards from the table, head hanging. If Taako had to assume, he’d say whoever this is certainly is tired.

“Lord Highchurch,” one of the Night’s Watchmen bows, addressing Merle, “Our men caught him on their way to Mole’s Town. He claims that he was on his way here.”

Mole’s Town is a tiny village just south of the wall, and from what Taako has gathered over the years, it’s mostly just known for the brothel there that the men of the Night’s Watch sneak off to. When they join the Watch, they take a vow to never marry or father children. Still, that part of their oath is often broken.

“Well,” Merle sits forward in his seat, leaning against the table, “What was he coming for?”

The men exchange glances, unsure. At a loss, they look at the one on his knees, yanking the chain attached to his shackles. It’s only then that he looks up.

The deserter is a scrawny man. Only a bit smaller than Taako himself, the look in his eyes tells them all they need to know. Regardless, he speaks anyway.

“I saw things beyond the wall,” his voice wavers, “Unbelievable things.”

“What ‘things’ do you speak of?” Lucretia is interested, her chin resting on the back of her hand. She’s always been the one to actually wonder what’s going on in the world around them.

“I saw an entire group of wildlins’ dead. Ripped limb from limb. Their bodies were used t’ make some sort of rune. Arranged into a circle, a line goin’ right through. Their half their heads were gone. But the ones that were still attached had eyes bluer’ than I ever seen before,” he pauses, “And when I went back to tell the others, they didn’t believe me. We went back so I could show ‘em, but they was all gone. Not a trace- not even blood.”

“I’ve seen worse,” Lup leans back, kicking her feet up onto the table casually, “Why does a few bodies give you the right to break your oath?”

The man gulps, holding his tongue. “If it please, m’lady, let me finish and you’ll understand.”

Lup gives him a stark nod.

“When I was lookin’ for the bodies, I heard somethin’ in the trees. I saw eyes. Different than the blue ones. Well- they was still blue, but they glowed. It was a White Walker, it had t’be. And the dead… The dead were alive. Not- They weren’t truly alive, but they walked. The dead walked and they killed the others. I managed to ride away.:

“You’re implying that the legend of the White Walkers is real, and you saw one?” The doubt in Lucretia’s voice is heavy. Taako would recognize it anywhere.

She read stories of the White Walkers to he and Lup when they were children- taught them to read for themselves using tales of the creatures beyond the wall. Giants, Children of the Forest, the First Men, and White Walkers. All tall tales meant to scare kids and kill off the curiosity and desired they may have to travel past the wall and discover the world.

White Walkers are by far the most terrifying of the tales. Icey, mummified creatures that can’t be killed by anything known to man. If they touch something that’s dead, it will come back to life, no matter what stage of decay it’s found in. Supposedly an unstoppable force.

“The law says that you have to be executed for deserting the Night’s Watch,” Merle looks to Lucretia, his faithful advisor in most any serious situation.

“Right,” Lucretia nods, “It will have to be done. Who would you like to carry out the execution?”

It’s a custom of the Highchurch house for the people that pass the sentence to carry out the execution. Merle’s family before him honored it completely, but being less of a brute himself, Merle softened the load on himself by changing things enough to allow those sentenced to death to choose a member of his family to do it. The youngest are an exception, but all of his adoptive family is up for grabs.

Usually, Magnus is chosen. People know that he can get the job done with the single swing of the sword. The few times Taako or Lup were chosen, they hadn’t been able to behead a man with one blow. Hardly at all. They’re grown to detest it since. They have new methods of their own now.

WIth a weak nod, the man gestures to Magnus, sealing his fate. The eyes that fly to Magnus can clearly see the dread he hides behind his eyes. While he will always obey orders and go through with an execution, there are many that he’d rather not do. Especially when it’s something as simple as running away out of fear. Still, he’s explained to Taako that he feels obligated.

Merle stands, placing his palms flat on the table. “Everyone get ready, then.”

With that, he leaves the table, everyone soon filing after him. Executions are never done inside Phandalin. Always in the fields and hills outside the walls. It’s out of respect for those who live there and those buried in the crypts below. None of them would feel right watching a man die in the middle of their home.

Heels click against the stone floors as they leave the great hall, going into the center square of the castle and turning to the wooden steps along the wall.

“Taako,” Lup grabs his hand as they ascend the stairs into their proper home, turning him around to that he’s forces to look down at her from two steps above.

“What?” He furrows his brows. Usually, his sister is all fun and games.

“What if he’s telling the truth? That White Walkers are real,” she keeps a tight hold on his hand as she ushers him to continue up, now at his side as they walk. “If they’re real, we stand no chance! They’ll climb the giant, dumb wall, and they’ll come right down here. When we least expect it, they’ll attack us!” She uses her free hand to suddenly grab his shoulder and shake him, trying to scare him.

It doesn’t work very well. He knows his sister too well, and saw it coming as soon as she started talking about the White Walkers. She will never believe in something like that unless she sees it for herself.

Lup giggles to herself, swearing that Taako was at least a little scared, and only leaving him alone once they reach her room. It is right next to her brother’s, and if it’s quiet enough they can sometimes talk to each other through the walls. Still, Taako enjoys having his own space. Lup does too.

They both disappear into their quarters, preparing for the short trip outside of the castle and past the limits of the small city outside. They don their cloaks, having already been dressed for the cold from their time in the forest. Taako takes a bit more time than Lup, adding a sheath with a light shortsword to his waist. Just in case.

\- - -

Riding out of Phandalin has never been thrilling. If anything, it’s just another boring affair in the daily life involved with the Highchurch household.

Along with Magnus and Merle, a few others have come along. Taako and Lup, of course, as well as the Highchurch’s master of arms and the lead guard. Trailing along with them in the back is Robbie, a man the same age as Magnus that comes from a small set of islands in the west. His father gave him to the Highchurch family when he was ten, and he has been their ward ever since. A child of a noble family raised by another.

Coming up on one of the larger hills on the countryside, a flat rock can be seen jutting out of the ground, stained brown from old blood.

The deserter has accepted his fate by now, his head hanging low as he’s led up to the rock by the two guards accompanying them. Magnus follows, his hand gripping the hilt of his sword tightly enough that his knuckles are a light pink.

He doesn’t what to do what he’s about to do.

But that much is obvious. He’s never liked executing people. Put him in a fight or a battle and he might just have the time of his life, actually using the skills he’s trained nearly all his life. He didn’t train to execute people.

There’s a solemn silence as Magnus takes his place next to the rock, the deserter laid down on his chest across it. 

When asked for last words, all the deserter asks is that when word is sent to his mother, that it will say he died in battle, rather than by execution. Magnus will uphold that wish, even if he has to write the letter and send the raven himself.

The deserter closes his eyes, waiting patiently for Magnus to finish the job.

None of them flinch when he brings the sword down, blood spraying up onto his cheek and pouring onto the ground. Magnus’ steel sword pokes into the ground as he leans his weight on it, staring down at the head below him. If he’s lucky, it isn’t too bad, but Taako can’t tell that much from where he stands.

Silence falls over the hill for a moment, allowing everyone to get their thoughts in order as needed. Lup is the one to break it. “We need to go back. I’m getting hungry.”

Taako is unsurprised that his sister would bring something like food up after watching an execution. She steps towards her horse, a beautiful white stallion that she adores, and pulls herself into the saddle. She shifts around until she’s comfortable, and then patiently waits for everyone to join her.

Magnus pulls a rag from under his cloak, wiping the thick blood from off his sword. It will need a proper cleaning later, but at least it won’t get blood everywhere on the way home. He sighs quietly as he slides it back into his sheath, folding the rag in half to hide the blood before tucking it between his belt and his hip. He crouches down and carefully picks up the head on the ground, waiting for the guard captain to bring the burlap sack forward to put it in.

The head of an executed man is always kept and given to whatever authority wants it. In some places they like to place the heads on spikes to show an example. In this case, a raven will be sent to the family about the situation. Though, since he wanted his mother to think he went down in battle, Magnus will probably just bury the head. And the body. Magnus has always been a very kind and forgiving man, even if he’s only just turned 18.

Turning his back on the bloody scene, Taako climbs onto his own horse, a stark black compared to his sister’s. Everyone soon follows, and before long they’re off back towards Phandalin. They aren’t too terribly far away. Just far enough away that it begins to get hard to see the castle over the trees.

As the horses carry them back home, Taako pulls on his horses reins, slowing it down and ending up alongside Merle. The stout man looks silly on his horse, his legs too short to reach the stirrups of a normal saddle. He has a specially made one just for him.

“What do you think about all that talk about White Walkers?” Taako keeps his eyes ahead while he talks, a little bored.

“The White Walkers?” Merle chuckles, shaking his head, “Nooo. Those things have been gone for centuries. He was insane.”

It makes sense that someone about to be killed would start spouting off nonsense like that, Taako is sure. But he saw something behind the deserters eyes that told him that he truly believed what he said. Whether or not he really was insane, or just a very good liar, he’ll never know for sure.

Up ahead, Lup stops. “Hey,” she turns her head back towards the rest of the group, “Check this out.”

Magnus pulls ahead, his curious nature leading him to nearly run right over whatever he sees. He pats his horse, mumbling a few things to it in attempts to get it to calm down a bit. His horse is just as wily as him. 

It takes a moment for everyone else to catch up, but as they gather around in the small space that they have, they find a deer lying dead in the middle of the narrow path through the forest, half disemboweled. It’s stomach is ripped open, anything that was once inside now spilling out into the dirt.

“What could’ve done that?” Magnus hops down from his horse, investigating. One of the antlers is snapped off near the bottom, but that’s the only sign of a fight other than the obvious cause of death. 

Lup leans forward, running her fingers through her horse’s coarse mane. “A bear, probably.”

Reaching behind himself, Magnus grasps his reins and guides the horse around the corpse in its way, he drags the stag off the path by the antlers once his horse is out of the way, and then mounts it once more, starting home.

The trail starts once again, Taako lagging behind this time as he struggles to get his horse to focus on the road rather than the side of it. Animals have never been his forte.

“It would’ve eaten it,” Magnus shakes his head, quiet, “The antler must have hurt it enough that it couldn’t.”

Robbie clearly isn’t the biggest fan of the gore he sees before him, taking a moment to continue forward along the dirt trail. He stops only a few yards meters ahead, eyes locked on some shrubbery at the edge of the path.

“Taako,” he looks back at the rest of the group, waving Taako forward. Out of all of the adopted Highchurch family, Robbie has always been closest to Taako. Likely just because they have one of the more similar sets of personalities. Robbie is just… a little more laid back. Some might even say he’s just plain odd. 

Steering his horse around the remains of the deer, Taako approaches, leaning forward in attempt to see what it is that Robbie wants him for. 

Laying among the shrubbery is a wolf. A wolf nearly the size of the horse that Taako rides.

“Is that… Is that a direwolf? That has to be a direwolf,” he looks back at the slowly approaching group, “Hey, fools, it wasn’t a bear! It’s the big bad wolf!”

Clearly interested upon hearing anything remotely related to “dog”, Magnus rides forward, followed by the rest. His horse has to skid to a stop behind Taako’s, but he wastes no time jumping off. He kneels by the wolf, inspecting the antler puncturing its neck. It’s hasn’t been dead long, but that much is obvious just from the fact that it wasn’t here when they came out.

It’s only just as Taako looks away that the tiniest gasps escapes Magnus’ lips, barely loud enough to be heard over the head guard droning on about how direwolves shouldn’t be South of the wall. He turns, standing and holding a grey pup by the scruff of the neck. He’s very gentle with it, a large hand under its hind end.

“She had pups,” he hands the tiny wolf off to Merle, who doesn’t seem entirely pleased with the idea of holding something that will grow bigger than him. “There are five of ‘em! We could each have one!”

Merle passes off the grey pup to Robbie, who holds it in front of his face and looks deep into its eyes. Beside him, Taako watches him, one brow raised. He’s never been able to understand what must go through that man’s head.

“We should kill them. They’re dangerous. If we don’t then they’ll grow so big that we won’t be able to stop them-” the guard is cut off by Magnus shoving a black pup into his arms, having none of the murder nonsense.

“Carry that,” he picks them up two at a time, scooping them up like they’re nothing more than spoonfuls of snow, rather than the equivalent of one or two month old husky pups. He hands them off to anyone that’s able to carry them without hindering their riding much. Robbie gets two, one of the guards gets two, and Magnus keeps one for himself.

Merle holds up his hands, “Wait, wait, wait. I never said yes to this. Are you really going to bring six direwolves into Phandalin? Maybe it isn’t such a good idea.”

“We can train them ourselves. It’ll be fine,” Magnus assues him, cradling a mottled brown pup in his arms, ready to go right back to his horse.

“Hey,” Merle stops Magnus on his way back to his horse, a hand against the top of his head, “What about Mookie?”

Merle’s son is barely six years old. He’s the youngest of the bunch, and the most energetic too. Giving him a wolf wouldn’t be very smart, in Taako’s opinion. Unfortunately, Robbie doesn’t have the same idea. He stares down at the trunk of a tree, balancing on one foot as he sticks his other out to push some branches out of the way on the ground, revealing another baby wolf. This one is albino, and small enough that it must be the runt of the litter.

“That one’s mine,” Taako blurts, not controlling his volume and nearly yelling the first half of his sentence. Lup laughs, having grown used to his antics, even when unintended. Magnus hurries over, picking up the last pup.

Taako holds out his hands, grabbing at the air repeatedly as if it’d make things happen faster. The little wolf is handed up to him, and it has no cares in the world. It lets itself get passed around with no complaints. 

Carefully he lays the pup across what little space is open in front of him on his saddle, one pair of legs hanging over either side. It doesn’t seem to care at all about it’s new position, simply shifting its head to one side. He’s peaceful.

“We best get back soon,” Merle sighs, defeated. There’s no way he will get Magnus to leave these pups behind, so he will just have to deal with their presence. From the few stories he’s heard over the years, direwolves are loyal companions. The only problem is they won’t be loyal to him, just the rest of his family.

As they depart from their stop on the trail, wolves in hand, everything is well. The trees rustle overhead with the breeze, birds chirp, and an owl hoots somewhere in the distance. Back the way they came, drops of blood stain the dirt on occasion, leaking from the head being carried in a sack tied to the head guard’s saddle. From the brush along the path a fox emerges, nose in the air sniffing. It follows the scent of the blood right to one of the drops in the dirt, and follows to the dead stag. The lucky little fellow has just found all it needs to eat for quite a while.

Taako turns his head and looks back, seeing the fox crane it’s head over the deer to inspect it. Without warning, it’s head snaps up towards him, making eye contact. He’s spooked by the change at first, but the fox doesn’t do anything but stare. Nothing to be scared of there. No, what gets him is that it keeps staring. It stares and stares and stares until he can no longer stand to keep looking back to check. If it’s still there. Nevertheless, he looks back just once more. There is no fox.

\- - -

It was night before the party got back to Phandalin. Riding through the gates, they were greeted by Lucretia. With hair as white as the stars, it’s hard to miss her under torchlight. She approaches Merle’s horse when he guides it to a stop, placing a slender hand between its eyes. Robbie puts the two pups down before helping Merle off his saddle.

“A raven arrived while you were away,” Lucretia holds her hands at her waist, as proper as ever, “Gundren Rockseeker is dead.”

“What?” Merle raises his brows in surprise. Gundren is his cousin. Distant, but close enough to get gifts for on the holidays. He’d never been known to fall easily, and he wasn’t old either. His death comes as a bit of a shock.

“Gundren is dead. Unknown causes. Most as suspecting it’s natural,” she pauses, taking a breath, “But the royal court is riding for Phandalin. The king himself is coming.”

It’s clear that this is what she sees as the most important point. She has had time to think on this, and surely has some theories and ideas on why they’re coming by now. She keeps her lips sealed though, knowing better than to say anything of importance in front of the rest of the family, or at least in front of the twins. Sure, they’re prone to gossip, but mostly amongst themselves. They know when to keep their mouths shut.

Whisking Merle away, Lucretia disappears upstairs, choosing to have a chat in her room. Magnus volunteers to take Merle’s horse to the stalls since he didn’t have a chance to do it himself, which he promptly does.

“Goodnight,” Taako looks at his sister, a smile playing across his lips. He slips off his horse and guides it on the same path that Magnus had taken, cradling his new wolf pup in his arm. Lup gets caught up talking to Robbie and choosing her own, leaving Taako alone.

The horse walks itself into its stall, and Taako thanks Magnus for heaving the saddle off its back for him when he comes in. He really is one of the sweetest men he’s ever has the pleasure of meeting. Handsome too. Any woman would be lucky to have him, as he’s been told hundreds of times by now. 

Taako would even gladly take him if he wasn’t so much like a brother, and was actually interested in those of the male variety. But since that is not the case, he doesn’t think much about it. Sure, he has spells where he feels a little lonely, but otherwise he is just fine with things as they are. He has a home and a loving family, and things are just right.

His dreams of ruling over a kingdom with a handsome man at his side can stay in his dreams, and that’s exactly what they do.

\- - -

It’s only a three day ride from King’s Landing to Phandalin, but when nearly the entire royal court is travelling together, it tends to take a bit longer. What with the stops for large meals and stays in real homes rather than making camp like others would.

Needless to say, it takes a week for the King to arrive in Phandalin.

Much can happen in one week. The wolf pups grow incredibly fast, sprouting up from nothing more than than little balls of fur to what could easily be mistaken as a 6 month old dog. Through the lifecycle of direwolves still escapes most, they’re growing faster than anyone expected.

In one week, Phandalin prepares for the king’s arrival, doing extensive cleaning and planning for grand feasts and parties. After all, it isn’t often that royalty comes so far North. It’s a big deal for everyone, especially Lucretia. She is the driving force behind all of the planning that goes on behind Phandalin’s walls. She makes the final decisions on food, decor, and even just on what linens will be put on what bed. Merle let her take the job over many years ago, after his wife passed and Lucretia offered to step in and help run the place so that he would have time to grieve. And while he didn’t grieve any longer than a day or two, she’s still kept the job and claimed it as her own. Merle has no objections, rather seeing someone else deal with it than himself.

“I’ve heard that the queen is the most beautiful woman in the West,” Magnus turns his attention to Taako, who stands behind his sister and braids her hair. He’s been excited to meet the royal family since they got the news that they were coming. He’s never been far enough south to get near King’s Landing, unlike the twins. They lived on the streets there for a few weeks when they were twelve, and they were lucky enough to see the royals as they snuck around a party that there weren’t supposed to be at. They were caught and kicked out, but not before seeing the king stand for a toast.

Rolling her eyes, Lup scoffs, “She isn’t anything special, trust me,” she reaches over placing a finger under Magnus’ chin and turning his head towards herself, distracting him from his task of grooming his beard, “If you want to see the most beautiful woman in the west, I’m right here.”

Anyone would admit that Lup is very pretty; extremely so, and thanks to genetics, Taako is too. 

With a newly clipped beard Magnus laughs and stands, dusting off his shirt. “I know, I know,” he ignores Taako’s objections as he ruffles his hair, his hand big enough that he could easily play ball with his head. “You two are good looking, we get it.”

Magnus can often be found lovingly joking around with the twins-- hell, it was only a few years back that everyone swore he must have had a crush on Lup. It didn’t last though, thanks to Taako’s pestering on the subject.

Regardless, they’re the closest of the little makeshift family. The twins and Magnus. It’s no surprise that they’re the most well known of the family too, aside from their Merle and Lucretia of course. They’ve made quite the name for themselves in the past few years. With Magnus’ constant training in fighting or craftsmanship, and the twins acting as the Phandalin’s personal (unhired) spies, they’re becoming more and more well known. 

Rumor has it that Magnus might very well be the best fighter in the North, and while much isn’t said about Taako’s combat skills, he isn’t bad either.

From the bell tower along the wall, the bell chimes-- grabbing the attention of everyone in the keep and alerting them of an incoming party. It echoes through the stone walls loudly, and whoever is ringing it has no remorse for anyone inside. 

Lup groans, batting Taako’s hands away from her hair so she can quickly finish the long braid herself. “They’ve arrived,” she doesn’t sound thrilled about the royal party being in Phandalin, but she knows better than to act up for now. 

“Oh joyous day,” Taako matches her tone, running his fingers through his hair to fix the mess Magnus had made of it. Of course, he got out the door fast enough that Taako didn’t have a chance to complain about it nearly as much as he wanted to. That won’t stop him from doing so sometime later, though.

As soon as Lup has finished her braid, the two hurry out to the courtyard, joining those that have already gathered around the gate in neat lines, Merle and Magnus at the front of them all. The twins fall into place with them, shortly followed by everyone else just as the gates begin to open. 

Behind them lies the royal court, some travelling on horses while the rest sit safely in a carriage. Leading the pack are two bannermen, carrying the blue flags of the Sterling family-- white eyes standing out as the sigil.

King Artemis Sterling follows just behind them atop his horse, looking rather carefree at the moment. Behind him rides his son, and the carriage carrying the queen and her two other children behind him. The rest of the riders are simply men of the King’s Guard, along with a couple personal servants. It isn’t anything particularly special when it comes to a royal court-- there isn’t any fanfare.

Magnus looks on in awe anyway, having never seen royalty before today. His eyes hold a twinkle of the curiosity that everyone has grown so used to around him, and it’s easy to tell that if it weren’t for how bad it would make the family look, he would have likely rushed to the horses and carriage by now just to check everything out. He’d even just be interested in talking to the guards, which he will probably do sometime later.

As the door to the carriage is opened and the queen steps out, her eyes meet Taako’s, and he immediately decides that he doesn’t like her.


	2. winter is coming; side b

To the east of Westeros lies the Narrow Sea, and beyond that, the continent of Essos.

Essos is a land much different than Westeros. Not only due to the much more diverse people, but also the way of life in most places. The west coast has an abundance of both free and slave cities, ruled by the rich and ran by the poor. The further inland you go, the more Dothraki you find; a tribal group of people that worship a Great Stallion.

Essos was once the home of the house Valdis, who ruled Essos before the current King overthrew the family.

Now, it is the home of the last two living people with Valdis blood.

Kravitz and his older sister- known to him as the Goddess of Death- or more simply, just Raven.

The two siblings were raised in the free city of Pentos since a young age, having narrowly escaped execution when the throne was overthrown a decade ago. The ruler of the city, the leading merchant trader, housed them and offered them everything he could until recently. When Raven turned eighteen, she became obsessed with the idea of getting back the family throne by whatever means necessary.

Twenty now, she has plotted hundreds of ways in which she could rise to power, varying from assassination to total war. Regardless what plan she decides to go with, the first step is always the same.

Marrying Kravitz off to the Dothraki, who have agreed to provide the army she will need to conquer Westeros in return.

They meet today.

Today is the day that Kravitz is to meet his new wife, whom he knows nothing about. Just as he knows nothing about her culture, or the conditions he will live in.

The balcony outside of the large washroom has a beautiful view of the sea, framed oh-so perfectly by the tropical trees and shrubs that surround the large house that Kravitz has grown up in. His hands hold a loose grip on the railing, his face looking peaceful. Content.

Inside he is anything but. His emotions and thoughts run wild with each other, waging a war in his head that he isn’t completely sure how to handle. All that he can focus on as a distraction is the waves crashing against the rocks far below, and the handmaiden behind him pouring lavender into the steaming water of the bath.

He’s never much cared for all the luxuries of being so wealthy, but he accepts them regardless, making sure to thank those that serve him. He knows how difficult it may be for some to spend their days surrounded by such pleasantries just to go home to nothing.

“Krav,” Raven pushes open the door at the other end of the room, drawing his attention, “I would hate to rush you, darling, but you really should move a bit faster.”

Turning away from the sea beyond the balcony, Kravitz steps into the washroom proper, watching his sister closely as she approaches, placing her hands on his shoulders with a smile. She’s about half a head shorter than her brother, but that doesn’t stop her from being overbearing.

“You’ve grown into a handsome young man,” she sighs, tugging at the silk tied around his waist, keeping the robe he wears closed. As it slowly comes untied, Kravtiz clenches his jaw, keeping his eyes focused ahead and pretending that he isn’t standing stark naked in front of his sister and a maid.

He could easily swat her away and stop her, but he’s learned from experience that if she wants something, she gets it, and if you wrong her, she’ll do you one worse.

A soft hand is placed on his chest, feeling over his pecks, “I’ll leave you to bathe.”

Raven turns on her heel, moving around the bath and out of the room without another word. The maid ignores the situation, simply pouring another pitcher of hot water into the already full bath in the middle of the room.

In the silence, Kravitz approaches the tub, stepping onto the marble ledge around it before slipping down into the water, shedding the robe on the edge.

“My lord-” the maid places a hand over her mouth, “The water is much too hot! You’ll be scalded.”

Hearing her words, Kravitz just turns and looks at her before sinking lower into the water, shaking his head. “I’ll be fine,” he assures her, “You are dismissed.”

Hesitantly, the maid nods, clearly still concerned for the wellbeing of her liege. Regardless, she places the pitcher on a table near the door and hurries out, leaving Kravitz to his thoughts.

\- - -

“I should be able to secure a reasonably sized fleet for you and the Dothraki within a few months, but might I suggest that you give them a chance to find their sea legs before making such an important trip? Perhaps practice on a couple of ships?” The merchant that houses them, Illyrio, offers advice to Raven as they walk along the path in his gardens, discussing the plans for taking back the throne.

“Yes, very well,” she waves her hand slightly, clearing the conversation, “My main concern is the wedding. When will it take place?”

Behind them, Kravitz trails along, scrubbed clean and smelling fresh for the arrival of the Dothraki later. He interjects before Illyrio can answer, “I don’t have any interest in marrying a strange tribal woman, you do realize that?”

The speed at which Raven turns around nearly gives him whiplash, and her grabbing his arms puts him on edge. She holds on tightly to his sleeves, but her face shows complete calm.

“Krav, my dear,” she leans in close, whispering, “I would let all forty thousand Dothraki men and their horses have their way with you if that’s what it took to get the throne back.”

Jaw set in a firm frown, Kravitz yanks his arms away from his sister, watching her carefully as she turns back to Illyrio as if nothing had happened. She disgusts him.

Of course, there are moments in which Kravitz does genuinely looks up to her, whether it be for her grand ideas or just for simple everyday things. She’s still his sister, and she does still have kind moments. They’re just hard to focus on when half of what she does is practically torture.

She’s a truly terrible woman, but he gives her a chance when he can.

As the two in front of him continue chattering on about the wedding plans and what they will mean for the family, Kravitz gets lost in his thoughts.

He’s being married to a Dothraki leader’s daughter. The Khal is the sole commander of an army of forty thousand, alongside all of the non-combatants in his tribe. His daughter has not yet wed, and as woman cannot be proper leaders in their society, it’s apparently seen as appropriate for her to marry a man that isn’t Dothraki in origin. Besides, rulers are chosen by what man is the strongest and most powerful, not by lineage.

While Kravitz has every intention to treat her kindly, he still doesn’t want to marry her.

Hell, he hasn’t even laid eyes on the woman.

All he knows of her is her name and age.

Antonia, age eighteen. Supposedly a beauty, especially for the tribes standards.

Given that, it shouldn’t be too bad to marry her. There’s not a large age difference, and if she’s as pretty as they say then he won’t mind her company most times. His main hangup is not being able to choose who he marries- or even get a say in whether or not he wants to do it. He’s perfectly fine with staying unwed for now, but it simply won’t happen with his sister in control.

The sooner he’s out of the way, the less threat he is to her. He is a man, after all, and would have claim to the throne over her because of that. To marry him off to a tribe would be to secure that he will stay in Essos when she plans to take over the throne. Safely out of reach of anyone believing that she shouldn’t be the one sitting pretty in the castle.

As the three of them approach the cobbled square in front of the house, they hear the telltale sounds of hooves on stone. Hurrying ahead, Illyrio stops in the middle of the square and looks down the path that leads to the road back into the main portion of the city, where twenty Dothraki men ride in on horseback.

Raven grabs Kravitz’s hand and pulls him along, standing at Illyrio’s side. She fusses over his hair, moving dreads (and a couple of small braids) around every which way, trying to make him more presentable. He doubts that the Dothraki are the type of people to worry much about how neat one looks.

As they enter the small square, Illyrio greets them warmly, giving some long introduction to the siblings at his side to seemingly deaf ears. None of them pay a lick of attention to the stout man, and the man in the front simple stares at Kravitz in silence.

He stares right back.

The horse turns around, the Khal atop it steering it. The others follow his direction, and they ride off without having dismounted their horses, or even exchanging pleasantries.

“What-” Raven lets go of Kravitz in favor of Illyrio, “Do they not like him? What’s going on?”

Illyrio laughs, shaking his head, “If they didn’t like him, they would have made it known.”

Then it seems the wedding is on.

\- - -

Kravitz had never dreamed that his wedding would be so violent.

Since the ceremony began, he’s had to watch at least five fights, three of which ended in death. Illyrio assured him that any Dothraki wedding without a death or two would be a dull affair, and he has no choice but to trust him on that matter.

Antonia is a beautiful young woman, he will admit, but he never would have married her on his own volition. Not a word has passed her lips since they met, and even then she just greeted him in her native language.

Unsurprisingly, Kravitz doesn’t speak Dothraki. He expects that he’ll be taught soon enough-- or at the very least will learn from immersion.

Nobody is particularly friendly. The nicest people that he’s been introduced to so far are the Dothraki equivalent of handmaidens. Most of them are from other tribes or small villages that the Dothraki have raided over time. Thankfully, they speak the common tongue. They’ve helped translate alongside Illyrio.

The wedding began at daybreak, when Kravitz was greeted with three Dothraki servants that spent no more than fifteen minutes preparing him for the festivities. He was stripped down and changed into Dothraki clothing, which consisted only of brown, jaggedly cut pants, and leather boots. Unsure of what to do with his dreads, they asked him to fix his hair himself. He simply tied it up into a ponytail on the back of his head.

He then left the tent he had been staying in for the week only to find that the entire area was different. Before, he’d simply been in a small Dothraki encampment overlooking the sea, but now the cliffside before him is decorated and tidy, men and women everywhere putting together tables of food and dancing to music.

Seeing most of the women topless came as a bit of a shock at the time, but he’s grown used to it as the hours have flown by. Though, he’s still a bit disturbed by all of their wedding traditions.

The fighting is one thing, but he would never have expected that the men would only fight if they attempted to “take” the same woman, and “taking” them simply meant having sex with them among the dancing crowd for the bride and groom to watch.

One tradition he can get behind is the gifts. Gifts are presented to the bride and groom, along with food. Whatever food they turn away is given to the guests, but gifts are specifically for the new couple.

Most of what they’ve been given has gone to Antonia, which Kravitz understands. She’s the one that they know, and thus has more respect. He’s given a few thing that should help him fit in with their ranks. A leather vest, a sickle, even a stark black horse. Antonia’s gift to him was the horse, which me must say he does adore. Still, there are more to come.

While Raven has spent the day alone, straying away from the festivities, Illyrio has stuck around and enjoyed himself. He doesn’t expect a gift from his sister, probably rightly so. He can’t remember the last time he received something from her that wasn’t for her own benefit.

Sitting on a wooden bench with his back to the cliff, Kravitz watches another man fall under the sharp blade of a sickle, his life coming to a dramatic and bloody end. Antonia claps for the victor, who claims his woman and joins the dancing.

The limp body of the dead man is dragged away out of site, to be given a burial later.

As the body is removed from the scene a woman approaches, the first non-Dothraki present that Kravitz doesn’t know. In her arms she carries books, which she offers to Kravitz as a gift, carefully placing them next to the few other things he has been given

“My prince,” she kneels before him, “My name is Killian of House Fangbattle, and I pledge fealty to House Valdis.” From her sheath she pulls a sword, holding it flat across her palms, presenting it to him. 

When one pledges fealty to a family, or even a specific person, it means that they are more or less giving themselves to the family’s cause. They will be your sword. 

Kravitz smiles, impressed. It’s rare to see a woman with a sword, and even more so for one to pledge themselves to a family. Typically, it’s considered a man’s job.

The sword slides back into its sheath smoothly as Killian stands, offering a hand to shake. Kravitz accepts graciously, standing out of respect. “On behalf of my family, I thank you.” 

Hearing those words brings Killian some unimaginable amount of joy that leaves her beaming. “Wessos awaits the arrival of the true royal family,” she stops herself, “But I’ve heard that you are to stay? Do you mind my asking why?”

As she speaks, Kravitz sits back down next to his bride, who isn’t paying any attention to them. Even if she were, she doesn’t understand Common, so it would be more or less pointless. “My sister primarily,” he leans forward to whisper, “She doesn’t want me to intervene with her master plan.”

“Oh, I see,” Killian nods a bit, seeming to understand the situation. She gives him a gentle pat on the shoulder before departing, “I’ll let you enjoy your wedding.”

As she leaves, Antonia turns her head to Kravitz, looking him over. When he notices, he gives her a small smile. The corner of her lips turn up in response, making the first smile that he’s seen on her face. He really hopes that they aren’t rare.

The Dothraki are a very lively people, but so far they don’t seem especially happy. Most of them have rather expressionless faces unless they’re doing something inherently entertaining. But then again, he’s only ever been around the Dothraki today. They’re intense and honestly a little scary, even for Kravitz. 

“If you could understand anything that I said, I’m sure we would get along fine,” he sighs, keeping her attention, “On the other hand, I now have someone I can say anything to.”

“Yeri lekh dothraki, tih mahrazhkem,” Antonia speaks in her native tongue, though it’s clear that she knows Kravitz can’t understand. She places a thin hand on his knee, attempting to bridge the awkward gap between the two of them. 

Rather than making it obvious that he’s uncomfortable with the situation, Kravitz just accepts it.s the show of affection. It isn’t hurting anyone.

Eyes drifting to the ground, Kravitz doesn’t notice Illyrio approaching until he’s right in front of him, carrying a decently sized chest. Raising his brows, Kravitz is curious. He had hardly expected the merchant lord to bring him a gift after allowing him to take residence in his home for so many years. That had always been gift enough, given the situation.

“Kravitz,” he kneels down before him, carefully placing the chest on the ground and pulling back the latch on the front, “It has been an honor to know you, and I wish you nothing but the best in the rest of your life.”

As the lid rises off the chest, inside he sees that it’s lined in red silk, stuffing beneath it making it more of a pillow. Sitting upon this pillow are three eggs, nearly bigger than his head, scaled, and of all different colors.

Dragon eggs.

Dragons have been extinct for some time now, but when they were still alive and thriving, the Valdis family had a special connection with them. Some born with Valdis blood find that heat isn’t an issue or risk to them. They could hold hot coals without injury. These people were said to have dragonsblood running through their veins.

Even today the Valdis symbol is a dragon, and the words of the house are “Fire and Blood”. The history of the Valdis name is surrounded by the creatures that once ruled the skies.

“These eggs come from the Shadowlands in the far east, petrified to stone over time,” he closes the lid, “Each worth a small fortune.”

“Thank you,” Kravitz nods, smiling, “They’re beautiful. I will keep them safe.”

With a small nod, Illyrio moves the chest to sit among the other gifts before taking his leave, having plans to sail for Westeros to prepare for Raven’s later arrival. As he walks away, Kravitz’s attention is on the chest that now sits next a pile of books on the history of both Westeros and Essos, as well as a few others that have faded enough he can’t see the titles from where he sits.

Lost in his thoughts, Kravitz doesn’t notice when the music stops, soon followed by the dancing and less appropriate festivities. He’s only pulled from his mind when Antonia stands, offering him a hand.

The Dothraki people are beginning to gather around, meaning that it’s likely time to exchange vows. From among the mass of tribesmen gathered around them comes an older woman, clearly a respected individual to the Dothraki. She stands in front of the two of them, nodding to Antonia.

On que, she turns to Kravitz, holding his hand between them and doing the same with the other after she grabs it. One of the handmaidens lightly taps him on the shoulder, quietly offering to translate for him.

They’re going to exchange vows, and they’ll officially be wed.

The entire event is much different than expected, but this especially so. It’s as if he’s been taken to the altar without warning and told to read the vows in an undiscovered language. In his own way, he is.

The Dothraki woman that stands between he and the crowd begins speaking, reciting something she’s probably said hundreds of times at weddings similar to this. She seems to drone on and on endlessly, but it probably only come off that way to Kravitz since he can’t actually understand what she’s saying. The handmaiden stands near him, quietly repeating everything she says in Common.

“You will now say your vows, repeat after me,” the woman looks to Kravitz before she speaks again.

As the translated words leave the handmaidens mouth, Kravitz repeats them to Antonia, “You are the moon of my life. That is all I know and all I need to know. And if this is a dream, I will kill the man that tries to wake me.” He keeps his eyes on his bride, watching her long hair move ever so slightly in the breeze.

Kravitz listens closely to her vows as well, the handmaiden translating them just as she has everything else. 

“Until the sun rises in the west and sets in the east, until the rivers run dry and mountains blow in the wind like leaves, you are my sun and stars,” she smiles up at him, and he half expect for there to be a kiss. Surprisingly, there is not. Instead of a kiss, the two newlyweds are ushered to their horses.

Kravitz mounts his new black stallion, and Antonia gets on her own brown one, leading the way and looking back at him to make sure he follows. It takes a moment to get the horse to follow his commands, but when it does it follows dutifully behind Antonia and away from the Dothraki camp. As they depart the music that played earlier begins once again, and with it he can only assume the dancing and sex does too.

As Kravitz passes the last stray tent of the camp Raven peeks out of it, hurriedly stepping out and coming up to her brother’s horse.

She looks disgruntled, but he couldn’t say why. She doesn’t explain either, simply grabbing his wrist and pulling him lower, “Make her happy,” she gives a curt nod before disappearing back into the tent.

Of course, Kravitz isn’t sure why the thought of consummation didn’t occur to him before now. Nearly anywhere you are married, you’re expected to make the marriage “complete” via sex. Of course, there’s never any real way to prove whether or not this has actually been done, so many people see becoming pregnant from consummation to be some sort of blessing.

Kravitz has no interest in lying with a woman he knows nothing about-- much less one that he doesn’t even share a language with.

He’s unsure whether or not Antonia shares the same feelings, or if she’d rather not take the risk of not doing it, but he would hate to disappoint her on the first day of this new relationship.

He follows her lead dutifully down the dirt path away from the cliff, but he soon finds that it in fact just circles around to the bottom of the cliff, leading under the overhang above that hides the small beach just below. Water laps up onto the surface in clear waves, and Kravitz watches the sand shift underneath it as Antonia comes to a stop.

In front of him, she slips down from her horse and approaches Kravitz’s, offering him a helping hand down. He accepts, thanking her despite the ever-present language barrier.

Antonia keeps hold of his hand as she leads him further from the water, towards the wall of the cliff. She looks over the rocks that lie all around the wall very critically before choosing one, sitting down on its smooth surface. She pulls Kravitz onto it as well before she lets go of his hand, opting to hold her own in her lap. She stares down at the mix of pebbles and sand under their feet, pulling her boots off one at a time using the toe of the opposite foot. 

Kravitz watches quietly as she curls her toes in the cool sand, a smile coming onto her face. She’s comfortable here.

Turning towards her new husband, she considers how to speak, pursing her lips in thought. When she comes to a decision, she makes hand motions. Her hands come up near her face, flat palms facing Kravitz. She then makes a hole with her thumb and index finger, slipping a finger on her other hand through it. She shakes her head.

This coaxes a laugh out of Kravitz. Obscene gestures like that would not be acceptable between a prince and his bride in Westeros, but perhaps the Dothraki are a more relaxed people when it comes to rules and being prim and proper.

Seeing that she made Kravitz laugh, Antonia does the same with a wide smile. 

With any luck, this marriage won’t actually be that bad. Antonia is a nice girl so far, and he will still be considered a prince, so he won’t be treated any worse. At least, he doesn’t think so.

The new path set ahead of him is simply to have a happy marriage with this woman, have a child someday, and perhaps end up dying at the hand of a Dothraki man when the time comes for a new Khal. After all, any Dothraki can challenge the heir for the “throne” once the current leader dies. Lord knows Kravitz isn’t cut out for fighting, so he expects that will be the death of him unless he runs away first.

For now, he supposes, he will just have to wait and see.


End file.
